A Tale of Two Cutleries
Twas near to midnight, and the moon shone brightly on a kitchenette,
The beams reached thro' the window; wisps of heaven-sent baguette.
And there they did illuminate a vast array of objects strange,
In short, twas every tool required for full culinary range.
At length, however, I'll divulge that those doughy threads of light,
Did find a stove, a blender, and more specimens of useless shite.
Of course there were all manner of the finest known cooking utensils,
Copper pans and rusted pots, and a pile of broken pencils.
One must not doubt but that there were other treasures out of sight,
But these cannot be detailed, being untouched by brave moonlight.
However, on this night so clear, so brilliantly by Luna lit,
Befell a happening so strange, 'tis more than most folk could admit.
For deep within the kitchenette, in sooth there was rebellion stirring,
And something most irregular was very soon to be occurring.
In the shadows of the night, unpenetrated by the moon,
There was a wall yet unexplored of this murky kitchen room.
Against this wall there was a fridge, and on this I shall not dwell more,
For lo, beside the fridge, there was the commonplace cutlery drawer.
And further must we venture hence, if this tale is to unfold,
And so I beg you, listener, steel your heart and make it bold.
Inside this drawer of cutlery: th'epitome of segregation,
There lay spoons, forks and knives—with no cross-contamination.
Thus regimented, silverware did not—could not—know each other,
There was no spoon aware of aught of her pronged or bladed brother.
Thus had it been for good and ay, quite since time had first began,
Since cutlery's first employ by woman, later still by churlish man.
However, on this night of nights, the trend was to be overturned,
For there within the sleeping barracks a single silver soldier burned.
For one fork's steely heart did ache for something different, something new,
And as he lay awake it dawned on him what he must surely do.
'I must break this mould,' quoth he, 'for it hath been now far too long,
'That I've lain snug with only forks—it feels more than a little wrong.
'It's not that I object for reasons of prudish propriety,
'Heavens no, I merely yearn for some manner of fresh variety.
'As is I just feel yet more prongs, meshing with these prongs of mine,
'Why can there not be something else—would that not be just divine?'
This lonely fork addressing thus the caverns of his troubled mind,
Decided he must venture forth, some other form of friend to find.
Now, unbeknownst to him, this fork was not alone in his desire,
For also on this night a spoon lay there emblazed in heartfelt fire.
She lay mere inches from him now, sectioned with her concave kin,
Wondering how to put to ease her loneliness entombed within.
'Pray, why,' lamented she, 'doth it seem I'm the only one,
'Can see to live here with just spoons is not exciting; is not fun?
'Why can't I, then, lie in this drawer with someone; something not a spoon?'
If her mother heard her thoughts, she'd surely black out in a swoon.
As it was, her girlish musings did go, all in all, unheeded,
The poor spoon felt she'd never know the company she sorely needed.
Realising this, her young heart sank, and she let out a gentle sigh,
And it floated thro' the air, towards the young fork just nearby.
Hearing the pitiful exclaim, the fork pricked up his metal ears,
For he had never heard the like in all his empty, lonely years.
The fork knew not whence came this sigh, and so quite at a loss was he,
He glanced about the sleeping forks, his wishful heart leapt desperately.
He longed to see the lovely mouth that uttered up that plaintive sound,
He knew twas not another fork, but who on earth else was around?
'Who's there?' cried he, 'Why dost thou stir? Please, let me see thy face!'
He searched, but could see nought but forks, all lined up in their proper place.
The spoon, however, heard his voice, soaring o'er the cold divide,
'Tis I, tis me, I hear you, sir!' heart in her mouth, she sweetly cried.
'Who spaketh there?' the fork exclaimed, 'Pray tell me now, what is your name?'
'I am a spoon,' she shyly said, 'but art thou not in sooth the same?'
'Not I,' said he, 'indeed I'm not, a handsome fork is what I am,
'I'm used for stabbing things like carrots, Brussels sprouts and roasted ham.'
'Stabbing!' thought the gentle spoon, 'How brutal this so-called 'fork' seems,
'And yet his voice doth sound so sweet—I cannot fathom what this means.'
Hearing her lengthy silence, the lovestruck fork quickly changed tack,
He dearly wanted for to win the sweet spoon's sweet affections back.
'But thou art made for stabbing too—you've stabbed me thro' the heart,
'I wish just to see your face, then never more shall we two part.'
The spoon, with a sympathetic ear, this declaration, blushing, heard,
And her silver heart was flattered by his kind and loving words.
'But spoons are meant to stir, not stab,' she, oh so gently teasing, said,
'We are not so gruesome, we are more for tea and soup instead.'
'Not so!' rebuked the smiling fork, 'Thou'rt good for more than soup and tea,
'For as it is indeed you stir—you stir a passion inside me!'
The young spoon giggled to herself, and then she realised something more:
She ached now to see face-to-face this voice from 'cross the cutlery drawer.
'Good sir,' cried she, 'I am intrigued, but how, pray, shall we ever meet?
'The spoons will not approve of this, I fear that we must be discreet.'
'Forget the spoons!' the fork decreed, 'Think only about how we feel,
'Besides, all said, were we not both made from the purest stainless steel?
'And if you, my dear, can stir at soup, and I can stab at coarsest meat,
'Then when we're placed together—O think what a banquet one could eat!
'So truly we are meant to be,' the fork continued, 'and what's more,
'If you'd condescend to meet you'd see I hath not just one prick, but four!'
'Good God!' the titillated spoon declared, 'In sooth thou art quite pervy,
'But whilst on the subject it's true I'm marvellously curvy.'
The fork pondered for a second, greatly liking what he heard,
'My lady, I'll be at your side if thou wouldst give one little word.'
Considering, the spoon declared that she would like this very much,
T'would be a thrill for her to see his tinèd face, to feel his touch.
'Come hither, then,' in sultry tones she, calling out to him, invited,
'I believe you are in earnest, and we two must be united.'
At this the fork did something that no fork had ever done before,
He told convention where to shove it, and leapt o'er the cutlery drawer.
Quite how he managed such a feat, it may never come to light,
One may just assume that love gives even forks the power of flight.
He landed in amongst the spoons with a loud crash of steel on steel,
And she glanced up in sheer surprise, not knowing how or what to feel.
Miraculously, not a one of her spoon brethren made a peep,
Indeed they were still in the depths of a long and peaceful sleep.
The bashful lovers, for the first time, looked each other in the eyes,
And tis fair to say that each was overcome with mild surprise.
The fork looked at his lady; saw the curves and contours of her face,
He knew he'd never seen the like in any other time or place.
The spoon in turn looked back at him, taking in his pronged aspect,
She'd never beheld such a sight as far as she could recollect.
'My dear,' he whispered in a rush of disbelieving, breathless awe,
'In sooth you are more beautiful than anything I ever saw.'
'Oh surely not,' the pretty spoon, concealing her delight, demurred,
'But truly I see you are not so bad yourself, upon my word.'
They gazed at one another and, reflected in the steel, saw sense,
They knew that it was foolish to continue living in pretence.
'My darling,' breathed the doting fork, 'my sweetest dear, my light, my dove,
'I cannot bear to carry on attempting to conceal our love,
'Let us never part again and let the two of us be one,
'And let this senseless barrier 'twixt the cutleries become undone.'
At this address the fair maiden's shining metal heart did melt,
She was amazed—he put to words precisely what she'd always felt.
And, feeling swelling deep inside sensations of contented bliss,
She shyly leaned towards him, planting on his central tine a kiss.
'My angel,' said she, with a wink, 'I swear by yonder silver moon,
'If thou wilt teach me how to fork, I'll gladly show thee how to spoon!'
He smiled back at her with delight, he could not very well resist,
He never dreamed the day would come he'd be caught up in such a tryst.
And so their night of passion passed in a flash of white-hot steel,
And neither could believe that what was happening was truly real.
In the morning when the sunlight crept inside the kitchenette,
It brought light to a spectacle, the sight of which one can't forget.
For, nestled in amongst the spoons, in a pose quite nonchalant,
Was a bizarre cutlery piece, not found in any restaurant.
Lying in the spot where just last night the lovers two had been,
Was this curiosity—the spoon and fork could not be seen.
As the spoons began to wake when touched by sunlight, golden yellow,
They gathered round and stared at this, a most extraordinary fellow.
It looked a little like a spoon, it had the proper curvèd face,
But there was something else about it that the crowd could not quite place.
They stared quite hard, they scrutinised, they ho'd and humm'd collectively,
The mothers didn't trust it and they clasped their young protectively.
And then, all of a sudden, dawned the crucial realisation,
That what the crowd was looking at was indeed a new creation.
For there, atop its head, which on a normal spoon was smooth and round,
Right smack dab in the middle, strange, a solitary prong was found!
'What is this?' the spoons demanded, 'What is it we've discovered here?
'See, it's sharp and pointy!' they cried out in sudden desperate fear.
'It cannot stay with us,' they screamed, 'for it is not one of our kind,
'How on earth did it get here, and how could we have been so blind?'
Meanwhilst, far across the drawer, the forks awoke from their deep slumber,
And it wasn't long before they saw they'd lost one of their number.
'Where is he?' they asked one another, 'Where, pray, can he ever be?'
They scoured the section, top to toe, yet nowhere to be found was he.
'In that case, we must venture forth, for we'll have no man left behind!
'We shall seek out what lies beyond, and we shall our dear friend find.'
And so at this the forks lined up, passionate with shared intent,
Determined to discover why and where it was the lost fork went.
And so, just as their lovestruck comrade, late the night before, had done,
They gathered up their courage and leapt o'er the ramparts, one by one.
They landed roughly with a crash in that which was spoon territory,
But so coldly were they greeted, they had not a chance to tell their story.
'Help, intruders!' cried the spoons, looking on them with alarm,
'Surely they have broken in to pillage and to do us harm!'
The forks, espying these strange creatures, also were taken aback,
'We've never seen the likes of these! How very strange! Alas! Alack!
'Now tell us, fiends, and tell us quick, what have you done with our friend dear?
'We know you must be hiding him, we're sure he must be somewhere near!'
The spoons glanced at each other, puzzled, knowing not of whom they spoke,
'What do you mean in coming here and is this all some cruel joke?'
The two sides stared each other down with a burning hostile gaze,
In a silent fearful face-off, that, once started, could have lasted days.
And indeed it may have, had not the silence been at once disturbed,
By the forgotten object that had had the spoons feeling perturbed.
The prongÈd spoon rolled over and let out a small contented sigh,
This startled them, and it became the focus of each silver eye.
'What's this then?!' the forks exclaimed, 'This cutlery has been perverted!'
No one knew quite what to say, they burned with shame, their gaze averted.
The curiosity in question was, by now, quite wide awake,
And it cleared its throat as if preparing for a speech to make.
'Come now,' a fork declared, 'and let us listen what it has to say,
'Only then can we decide if it may see the light of day.'
The crowd unwillingly assented, and a stony silence fell,
As they waited for to hear and see precisely what it had to tell.
'My friends,' the thing began to say, with a gentle, friendly smile,
'I pray you, do not fear me, for I'm quite pleasant and docile.'
It had no time to tell them more, 'Ha ha!', they interjected,
'This cannot possibly be true, it's just as we suspected!'
The stranger smiled patiently, it did not seem at all offended,
It said, 'I pray that you allow your disbelief to be suspended,
'For as I said before, I do not intend to cause you pain,
'And I'm certain I've done nought to justify your cold disdain.'
'If this is so,' the forks replied, 'then explain our missing friend,
'Surely you have kidnapped him, or sent him to some grisly end?'
At this the whole crowd panicked, and it seemed there'd be a riot,
And indeed it took some skill to make them calm down and be quiet.
The stranger then continued, 'If you'd but look again you'd see,
'That this lost friend of which you speak has been here all along: it's me.'
The crowd shook its collective head in disbelief and wonderment,
Still suspicious of the object's harbouring some ill intent.
As they stood, considering, one of the smaller spoons cried out:
'Wait, one of OUR sisters is gone! Tell us, what's THIS all about?'
And of course the tot was right, there was indeed just one spoon missing,
The selfsame spoon which, late last night, had been caught up in love and kissing.
'Try and explain THAT away, you mean to say that she's here too?'
The stranger smiled warmly, nodded, and said simply, 'Yes, I do.'
At this the crowd was speechless, and for once not one voice sounded,
Each and every one of the spoons and forks looked quite astounded.
The spoon-fork, smiling, said 'I see you'd like me to explain,
'So if I may I'll make it brief, and I'll express myself quite plain,
'I was not speaking false when I claimed to be both fork and spoon,
'For indeed I am, and I swear it by the sleeping moon.
'Last night, whilst the lot of you were laying silent, lost in dreams,
'A lonely fork and troubled spoon discovered all's not as it seems,
'These two lost souls, kept apart by many years of prejudice,
'Did, at last, chance to meet, and put end to their loneliness,
'United by a love so pure, their differences were left unheeded,
'And they could merge, flesh and soul, and find the inner peace they needed,
'And this is why I spake the truth when I said I'm both spoon and fork,
'For I have found my soul mate, and we call ourselves a Spork.'
No one knew quite how to answer, they stared in astonishment,
The tale was so romantic, no one uttered an admonishment.
And indeed, the forks and spoons looked at each other with new sight,
And it's entirely possible that many Sporks were born that night.
This doesn't mean that segregation was left on history's dusty shelves,
For even then, the spoons and forks kept, on the whole, more to themselves,
But at least the Spork achieved that which it only dared to yearn,
The cutlery knew of each other, but they still had much to learn,
And all was not perfect, for endings very seldom are,
For we know Sporks, as a contraption, are quite useless and bizarre.
So although the Spork had found love, and was thus joyously glad,
It was relegated to the realms of single-serve pasta salad,
And nevermore could it attain the respect enjoyed by the others,
Nor could it once again rejoin its spoon sisters and fork brothers,
And indeed the humble Spork may well be looked on as a joke,
But now you know the truth, and may feel sympathy evoked.
For this foolish-looking item was born out of deepest love,
In a sweeping tale of romance that is rarely spoken of.
So reader, please remember, next time you see the silver moon,
Take a moment to consider what can happen when one forks a spoon!
